


Stitches

by chantryscholar



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantryscholar/pseuds/chantryscholar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The survivors make it to Sanctuary. Preston lends a hand to the sole survivor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

After all that happened in Concord, none of the survivors wanted to talk much. The goal was to get to Sanctuary, not attract even more attention along the way. Only Mama Murphy made a sound, humming tunelessly as she shuffled along the asphalt. Marcy was gritting her teeth, red-rimmed eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to ignore the old woman. Preston could only wait until she began snapping at everyone again--just a matter of time, especially with how slow the newcomer was moving.

He glanced over his shoulder to check on the lonely figure in the power armor, still fighting with every step she took. At first, he thought she was injured, especially after the fight with the deathclaw. But the newcomer--Charlie, that was it--she had waved off his concern, saying the fusion core had just breathed its last. But she was determined to keep the power armor, getting it to move through sheer force of will, and followed from a distance.

Not one to abandon someone, especially a woman who killed a deathclaw with a damn tire iron, Preston insisted the group slow down enough to keep her in sight. She helped them, and the least they could do was watch her back.

It wasn't needed for long. Sanctuary was just in sight, over the bridge, and it urged everyone to move a little faster. The name was a promise they all hoped would hold up. And of all things, a Mr. Handy was waiting for them, a false note of cheer in his voice as he said, “A good day to you all! Would you have, by chance, come across my mistress, Miss Charlie?”

There was a grunt from the woman behind Preston, as she tugged off her helmet, hair sticking up every which way. Her face was sweaty and red from forcing the power armor to keep moving, but that wasn’t what concerned him. Her teeth were stained with blood, bubbles forming as she managed to say, “I’m here, Codsworth, simmer down. Let’s get these folks settled in, please?”

She ignored the robot’s worried squawks, again forcing the power armor to move along the street, little by little. Preston shouldered his laser musket and hurried after Charlie, allowing Sturges to take over the small band. The power armor wasn’t exactly built to grab onto, but he finally stepped into her path, forcing Charlie to come to a sudden halt. “You said you weren’t injured.”

“Ain’t injured. Just a busted lip.” Charlie said sourly. She twisted in the suit for a moment, grunting and swearing, before a few consecutive beeps allowed the woman to exit the power armor. She grabbed onto the metal arm to steady herself, a shaky breath escaping her. Her lip hurt like hell, fire on her face, but she didn’t exactly have much to fix it with. Glancing up, she noted the Minuteman watching her with a look of grave concern. “What?”

What a frown he had. Brows knitted, lips slightly pursed, nose crinkled just so. Charlie felt like she was about to get told off for not wiping her boots off. Preston reached for her arm, gripping it firmly to tug her away from the power armor, and led her to an overturned crate, left behind by some scavenger of sorts. “Sit. That’s infected. Not exactly the best thing out here, you know?”

“Look, it’s fine, I’m fine, it’s just a little red--” Charlie tried to pull herself up, right as he tilted her head back, twisting the cap off a flask. Vodka poured onto an open wound resulted into a howl of pain that echoed around the demolished neighborhood, followed not long after by Charlie cussing the air blue as she fought back tears. Nonplussed, Preston readied a needle and thread, giving her a moment of warning before he bent over to work on her.

The palms of her hands had little crescents dug into the soft skin by the time he was done, her knuckles clenched so tightly it hurt to actually release. Charlie finally let out the breath she had been holding, making a shrill noise through her teeth as she forced herself to relax. Preston gave her an apologetic smile as he sat beside her on the crate, the wood creaking dangerously at their combined weight. “Sorry about that. You can’t ignore that though.” He glanced down at the blue vault suit she wore. “First time out, I’m guessing?”

“Something like that.” Charlie said weakly, hunching over to rest her elbows against her knees. It still hurt to talk, and was going to for a long time. It wouldn’t stop her from trying though. “Give me some warning next time, at least.”

“Deal.” Preston clapped her on the back with a chuckle before he went to stand. “For now, I’ve got to check on the others. You let me know if that gets any worse, alright?”

She waved him off, brushing her fingers gingerly over the new stitches. Still hurt like hell, but her face wasn’t split half open, so...positives. “Yeah, alright.”


End file.
